A/N: My apologizes to phantomy-cookies for any errors. I swear I make corrections, and FFN eats them for dinner. Thanks to all the dear reviewers and readers who don't review. Mee hee hee! Warnings still apply.

1870, March 8.

My Angelina,

It was so tiny!

Just a little thing really. Petit. Like a garden snail. Leaning to one side. Limp. Inconsequential, really. Hardly worth a second glance.

That miniscule white mask clung to his cheek like a lover, desperate to be close, to be one, to be seamlessly attached to the other in a passionate embrace, where bodily fluids are exchanged in the harmonious and ancient dance of two souls grinding like an organ grinder with a leaping monkey, the monkey much like the man's hootenanny, bouncing and eager, weeping with emotion.

I had to touch it.

I simply had to. It wasn't an option. Much like I came to know Cecil's pocket demon, I had to know his face. He'd kept his true self from me forever, and it was time that I knew him fully. After all, we were soon to be married! And married people can have no secrets! Remember what Papa used to say? "Your mother tried to keep me from selling her jewelry by burying them in the garden. As if I didn't know where she'd hidden them! Or that she was playing tiddly-wink with the baker in town. Now come sit on my lap!"

Staring at his mask, I reached a hand up to touch it gently. In sleep, he looked so peaceful, almost like a baby. An incontinent baby, particularly when he frowned and seemed to need a diaper change. Oh Angelina, the left side of Cecil's face was absolutely flawless. His eyebrow was perfectly waxed. His eyelashes fanned perfectly over his darling bronze cheek. He grew only the most erotic stubble, you know, and his mouth. His mouth! A pair of softer, plumper, moister, nibble-abler, chewabler, gag-abler lips I have yet to find! Cecil's mouth was a symphony, an aria, a sonnet, an epitaph, and a haiku to beauty. I wanted to sing, to lick, to paw and grind multiple body parts on his face, in seemingly uncontrolled ecstasy.

The porcelain was smooth beneath my fingertips. I traced the brow, the half-nose, the tiny part along the cheekbone: Smooth, sensuous, like a tender, expert though virginal lover ready to lift you into unexplored realms of sexual discovery! He shifted in his sleep, murmuring something that sounded like "I like milk chocolate best." I paused and breathed in quietly.

Surely this was an invasion of his privacy.

Well, he had most assuredly invaded my privacy only moments ago.

But I should wait for him to reveal himself to me!

Though he was more than happy to divest me of my pantalets with the greatest of ease…

Yes, I simply had to know.

I curled my fingers around the mask. I tugged.

Nothing happened.

I propped myself on my elbow. I tugged again.

"Do you want me to call you Mumsie?"

I opened my mouth to speak, then reconsidered and began to pick at the mask like a scab. It simply would not budge! I sat up and used both hands. Nothing! I threw a leg over his waist and put my heart into it. Angelina, it was as if the most stubborn glue had affixed it to his magnificent head!

He swatted at me, called me a "buttery nipple shocker of a vixen,' then opened his eyes.

"Catherine?"

I smiled brightly.

"Good morning, my love!"

Cecil looked around. "Everything all right?"

"Of course!"

"Why… heh… why are you sitting on me?"

I blushed. Cecil smirked. "Ready for another go of it?"

Several exhausting hours later, we rose, and feasted on some bread and cheese. I stared at his mask. Cecil seemed oblivious. He slumped in his chair indulgently, nibbling on a hunk of Brie. "Catherine, you are fantastic."

"A fantastic singer?"

"No."

"A fantastic actress?"

"God, no."

"A fantastic dancer?"

"I've never even seen you move. Well, pirouette, that is. In other venues, you move like a professional."

"That's what Marcus told me."

Cecil stopped mid-chew. "Pardon me?"

I sipped some wine. "What?"

"You've been conversing with other men?"

"Not since I've been with you, of course!"

"Good. I think. Although perhaps you should branch out. Play the field. See what's out there?"

I set my goblet down and flung my arms around him. "Never ever! I adore you! And you adore me! Many times over! I shall never want another!"

Curiously, I felt him try to pull away, to pry his body from my grasp. He is so shy, so unaccustomed to love! My dearest heart— his sensitive nature so damaged by our haggish sister. I should like to burn her at the stake for her cruelty. I sat on his lap and touched his chin. I then cupped my hand on the mask. He shook his head as if a gnat were buzzing about. I patted the mask, and he shifted uncomfortably. I tried to slip a fingernail under the rim, and he batted my hand away.

"Have you ever indulged in the fine Parisian art of Hot-Tubbing?"

"No, never!"

"Excellent."

Cecil stood, and I slipped off his lap with an embarrassing "thump" to the floor. "Follow me, then. And do bring the bottle of merlot with you, if you please?"

I did as he requested; when had I not? I adored him, Angelina, I did! I wanted to know him, and love him, and love him exquisitely, in unique ways… so I followed. Candle in hand, he lead me down a narrow stone walkway along the lake. He called it some word that started with an A, but I shall be damned if I can remember it.

Albert?

Advertisement?

Angina?

No matter… I followed and reached my hand out to hold his. His hand jerked to and fro, as if he wanted to shake me off, but I knew that surely wasn't the case, so I playfully shoved him, causing him to trip! Cecil looked back at me with a scowl.

"Honestly. Amsterdam isn't looking too bad these days. But that rack…"

"Of lamb?"

Cecil blanched. "Yes. Of lamb. Mmmm, lamb."

"Darling, it's so dark… I'm surprised we aren't tripping and falling into each other!"

"Well, that's certainly not going to happen any more, Catherine," he said with a disapproving tone. "We've had sex, my dear."

I blushed charmingly. "No we haven't."

Cecil stopped abruptly and turned to face me. "Yes we have."

I giggled. "Oh no. Not at all."

"What precisely would you call it then?"

"Making love," I beamed. "Becoming one. Singing with our bodies. Communicating with our souls. Letting our skin slap together. Joining in the most intimate of handshakes. Enacting the 'pokey-pokey.' And best of all, getting engaged!"

Cecil looked frightened. "No no. We had sex. Sex. We had sex. None of the soul business. Just… you know… doing it."

"Never 'just' anything, my dove. Being with you is a religious experience."

Cecil put his hand on the small of my back and fairly shoved. "Let's get going, shall we?"

We finally rounded on a beautiful round pit filled with bubbling water and steam rising. I noticed a little shelf built into the stone with various jars of bath salts, stacks of towels, and strange, long, ribbed toys lined up neatly. "Cecil…"

He dropped his pants. 'Yes?"

"Oh nothing." I turned my back to him and stepped out of my luxurious nightgown. Demurely, I placed my hands over my bosom and lowered myself into the water. Cecil did the same, though less demurely as he flexed and stood in profile for me to applaud.

Stepping into the water, Cecil giggled rather unmanly as the bubbles hit his… manly business. I blushed and handed him the bottle of wine, from which he promptly drank.

"Doesn't this feel marvelous? Makes you forget all about… whatever mistakes you've made…"

"Oh yes," I agreed. I bounced over to him, feeling bubbles assault me as only Cecil had! "Darling," I said, caressing his chest. "Sing to me."

"Something from 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

"From your pocket demon."

He frowned, then shrugged and lifted me up. Oh Angelina, Cecil was inspired: He rode onward as if he imagined me to be César. He spanked my bottom, kicked my ribs with his heels, offered me a carrot if I would spank him back, and finally asked me to neigh if I was pleased.

I did neigh, Angelina. I did.

After neighing, I turned around to look on him. His broad chest was heaving with the exertion of our violent sexual congress, while all around him the steam rose in great billows. That is when I noticed it.

His mask.

It was slipping off.

But he was far too ecstatic to notice!

Inch by inch, it came unhinged, until finally it plopped into the water.

I screamed!

He screamed!

The air screamed!

The organ screamed!

I think Cecil's pocket monster screamed, but I cannot be sure.

It was horrific, Angelina… worse than I could have ever imagined. It was reddish, whitish, a little pink perhaps, even fuchsia too. I tried to turn away, but alas I could not—for it was a tragic, nauseating sight! It looked as if a tiny mouse had nibbled violently on his cheek! In the shape of a star!

Oh, I felt my stomach turn!

And then my eyes drifted up the ruin of… part of his face… just under his eye, really… and then I saw it. My eyes truly did leave my head as I beheld the vomit-inducing vision of his eyebrow.

It was un-waxed!

He thrust his hand up to his face. "HOW DARE YOU TRICK ME SO!"

I trembled in the wake of his fury.

"But I didn't do any—"

"OH DEAR GOD SHUT UP YOU ASS! DAMN YOU, YOU PRYING PANDORA!"

"Did I just release great secrets into the world via a lockbox?"

"STOP TALKING NOW AND LET ME YELL AT YOU DELILAH!"

"I most certainly did not cut your hair, Cecil! Be reasonable!"

"I CANNOT YOU HAVE BREACHED MY LAST FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE WHY COULDN'T WE JUST ENJOY THE NOOKIE AND LEAVE THE SONNUVABITCHIN MASK ALONE I HATE YOU SO MUCH GET OUT OF MY SIGHT WHORE OF ALL WHOREDOM! I'M SO ANGRY I SHALL BE CONDEMNED TO ALL CAPS FOREVER! AND MULTIPLE MARKS OF PUNCTUATION!"

With a cry of anguish, Cecil collapsed into a heap of despair at the side of the hot tub. I tried to reach out to him: I touched his shoulder, and he turned the perfect side of his head to me and said, "WHAT PART OF 'GET OUT' CONFUSES YOU? I'M NOT SPEAKING FRENCH, HON! THIS IS ALL ENGLISH. GET YOUR VERY TIGHT AND PERT BEHIND OUT OF MY UNDERGROUND BACHELOR PAD NOW BEFORE I SUMMARILY THROW YOU INTO THE LAKE AND POINT AT YOU AS YOU FLOUNDER ABOUT!"

In fear, I leapt out of the water, grabbed my clothes, and made a hot, wet, naked dash for the Opera Populaire-Garnier above.

Sobbing,
Catherine